


A Change of Pace

by toomanyships-sendhelp (ValarMorghulis508)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Asphyxiation, Dom/sub Undertones, Light BDSM, M/M, Minor Violence, Public Scene, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValarMorghulis508/pseuds/toomanyships-sendhelp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes out of the shower ready to head out to a case but finds Sherlock positioned suspiciously at the end of their bed with a sinful look in his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Pace

John left the bathroom with a towel around his waist, a small flourish of steam escaping through the door behind him. He hurried to the warmth of their bedroom to get dressed to find Sherlock sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. He had already donned his usual attire in the time it took John to shower. Granted John _did_ take a little more time than usual allowing the shower to run over the healed welts on his back. The sting of the hot water brought back memories from the night before and John had lost himself remembering how it felt when Sherlock had brought the riding crop across his freshly healed scars, effectively bringing them to rise again.

John smiled at Sherlock lightly before turning to the wardrobe.   
"No."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
"I haven't even asked yet!"  
"I'm not an idiot contrary to what the Holmes gene thinks of me. You, in here, after my shower. We _both_ know what you want and we _both_ know we haven't got time."

Sherlock opened his mouth before quickly closing it again, as if he almost had a sentence but it was stolen from him. He watched as John reached into the wardrobe, pulling out a shirt, undershirt and a jumper before rifling through his drawers for a set of trousers. He flung them behind him onto the other side of the bed as he went, trying to be as quick as possible before the cold set in. As he slipped into his pants, Sherlock's head slowly dipped to the side as he inspected the beauty of last night's time together and felt a swelling in his groin upon remembering.

It was true though. They didn't have time. Lestrade had called them early in the morning to assist in a case and things had been slow on the blog so they were taking work where they could get it. It barely registered much more than a five but Sherlock seemed to be glad he at least had something to do. He thought it rather urgent and they agreed they'd be in shortly. That was over an hour ago.

John turned swiftly towards the bed to start getting dressed when he caught Sherlock looking at his welts. He playfully shook his head.   
"Sherlock.."   
Sherlock's focus turned from Johns back, as he had, and onto his doctors chest. There was still a few small bruises from when they had first tried nipple clamps a few nights ago. Sherlock had decided that required further information and filed it away until the time arose again.   
John waved his hand in front of Sherlocks face.  
"Sherlock!"   
He snapped into focus  
"What is it, John?"  
"If you're ready, do mind restocking your crime scene kit before we go? We may need it and half of it is still sterilising in the sink"

Sherlock's lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. John both loved and hated when they did that. It never meant anything good. Well.. he said good..  
"What?"  
Sherlock brought his hands from behind him and held up a small, perfectly wrapped gift. John's heart skipped a beat. Today wasn't special. It was a boring Wednesday in the middle of May what _possible_ reason could Sherlock have to have actually buy John a gift?  
"What's this?"

He simply held it out further to John, insisting he take it and find out for himself. As John hesitantly took it, Sherlock adjusted himself on the bed, sitting closer to the edge, waiting with anticipation for John to open it and discover the contents within.

John couldn't help his stupid grin as he speedily removed the bow and paper, placing it on the table by the bed, before taking the lid from the box. John's breath caught in his throat. _Oh that bastard.._

He reached into the box and held up a small plug. Black. Similar to the one that had become a frequent bedfellow between the two of them, though this had a curved anchor base as opposed to their flat base. But this one felt different in his hand. It was the same high quality silicone as the other, but felt strangely heavier than it should given that it was smaller. Not too heavy. Just deceptively so.

He had seen this before. He knew its purpose very well as he had researched it not two days ago. He looked back into the box to find its partner, but there was nothing else there. John looked back up to Sherlock to find him holding up the matching remote ever so innocently. He tapped the on button and the plug buzzed to life in John's hand, the vibrations sending a direct message to John's cock. The thought of how and when this might be used did nothing to sate the feeling either.

"I found a curious thing in your web history the other night." Sherlock flicked through the various speed and pulse settings as he spoke. "Turns out someone has been using your laptop to research different tools and their applications. I found this one particularly interesting seeing as the laptop's owner has, on more than one occasion expressed his distaste for any public displays of.. well anything."

_No... he couldn't possibly...._

Sherlock turned the device off before standing and moving closer towards his doctor. He looked down and could see the fire burning behind John's eyes and his hands flex and tense. He moved closer still, bringing his hands to John's hips and drawing John against him. He could feel John's erection straining at the front of his pants and felt his own start to awaken. He leant in and with a deep and heavy breath, whispered into John's ear. He spoke slowly and carefully.

"So that leads me to ask someone would steal your laptop to research this. Why someone would break in, use an almost innocent doctors computer to look up vibrating remote toys, return it to its correct location and leave without disrupting the rest of the flat because clearly a man who has shown such disinterest, no it must be bordering repulsion wouldn't dare to even consider it. Surely."

John swallowed thickly and could feel his pulse begin to race. He pulled back to see a hunger upon Sherlock's face that he knew only too well.   
"Sherlock... I -"  
"Ask and you shall receive, John."

Sherlock sidestepped John and in one fluid motion, grabbed him by the shoulder and forced his face onto the bed, his cheek turned sideways to be sure to hear any excuses John could muster so he could chastise them appropriately. John brought his hands up by his shoulders as if to attempt to defend himself but found his body unresponsive. Well, mostly.

Sherlock held him in place with one hand and gently stroked down the healing welts on John's back.  
"Be a good Captain and fetch the bottle from under the pillow". Sherlock purred as he traced his fingers to the elastic on the band on his pants.

John hesitated. He could feel his breath weaken and his heart jump every time Sherlock's fingers passed over a sensitive mark on his skin. He pressed his eyes shut as he tried to.. needed to get Sherlock to hear reason.

"Sherlock... We need to go... Greg's expecting us"

Sherlock ignored him. "The bottle, Captain"

John's cock twitched every time Sherlock called him that. He steadily reached under the pillow to where they kept a small bottle of lube. He knew very well that these things shouldn't be attempted with saliva alone. It would be easier if he just gave in. He reached up behind him to pass the bottle to Sherlock. He plucked it from his fingers and flicked open the cap. Sherlock brought his open palm in front of John's line of sight. Knowing exactly what he was asking for, John reluctantly handed over the plug.

Sherlock began to slick his fingers as he spoke to John.  
"Lestrade called while you were in the shower. I told him I solved that pitiful case he had for me. Clearly the house maid saw everything and was lying because she thought she'd get fired or deported."  
He placed the bottle on the bed before gently sliding one digit inside his detective. He felt John's whole body pulse. He gently guided it in.. and out allowing John to remember the feel of him. Not that he needed reminding. He just liked to make sure John wouldn't forget.  
Sherlock brought his other hand to the small of his back as he worked a second finger inside of him. He savoured the sight of his detective as he continued.  
"He also said he has another case for us. Some murder. Dull. Turns out he needs us there immediately. I thought I could make things a little more _interesting_."  
John moaned into the bedspread and pawed lightly at the sheets. He refrained from pushing back onto Sherlock's fingers as he knew what that usually meant. Surely Sherlock wasn't suggesting ...

Sherlock brought the cool tip of the silicone to Johns entrance and slowly pushed it home. John let out a long moan and felt his hips surge forward as the plug was pushed further and further inside him, threatening to brush against his sweet spot. Sherlock retracted the intruding device before pushing it in again, deliberately pressing into John's prostate. His contracting muscles could feel it slowly flare and taper out before easing off and curving into a much smaller stretch. This was designed to stay firmly in place. Sherlock brought his palm over the base of the plug and held it there as John pushed back onto it.

John tried to gather himself after having felt the entirely of the device come to a rest within him. He tried to adjust to the feel of being filled without any movement. As he caught his breath, he turned his head to meet Sherlock.

"We can't go out like this..." He took deep breaths before whimpering pathetically "Someone will know.."

Sherlock leant forward and gently nipped at the doctors ear. John could feel his hot breath and it sent a bolt to his cock, already begining to leak with precome.

"You better put on your brave face then, Captain." John quivered. "Lestrade is waiting for us. And hear this. Don't you dare come before I let you."

\------------------------------------------

The car ride over had been fine enough. John had only adjusted himself to sitting a few times and Lestrade thought nothing of it. He kept rambling on about how this murder was important and how they needed to solve it as quickly as possible.   
"This is very serious boys, I'll need your top game today."

"When do we give you anything less, Detective" Sherlock replied with a smile, before turning to face John, still with a smile in his eyes. John didn't know if he should be excited or terrified. True he had always considered any public displays between the two of them out of bounds. He didn't want Lestrade, Donovan or anyone else for that matter knowing how deep their relationship had gone. They had all come to the conclusion, some even before the pair themselves, that they were an item. John however was new to .. whatever is was Sherlock had awoken inside of him and couldn't bare the judgement he would receive if they knew any more than what they already did.

But then, why had the idea of this electrified him? Clearly Sherlock knew how John would take this better than he did. If Sherlock genuinely thought he would have been uncomfortable with it he wouldn't have pushed it. So why had John agreed to it so easily?

\--------------------------------------------

They arrived at the crime scene and it seemed no more extraordinary to any other murder they had seen. The only thing that was immediately different was that they were the only three there, except of course, for the woman lying face down some way down the alley. As John moved across the seats to get out of the car, he felt the plug shift inside him. He drew in a shaky breath, trying to mask the pleasure associated with it. He looked to Sherlock who was grinning wickedly. John cleared his throat and exited the car.

Lestrade lead the way down to the body. John had taken no more than three steps from the car before Sherlock cut in between Greg and himself and stood impossibly close to him. He spoke rather quickly and quietly.   
“John listen to me. Listen. We haven’t done anything like this before. I’m aware of your stance but do remember It’s just as difficult for me.”  
Johns voice faltered.  
“Is it?” Sherlock laughed softly.  
“No. I mean yes, It’s going to be _hard_ keeping my hands off you but I also take great pleasure in watching you suffer.” He checked over his shoulder to make sure Lestrade had made his way to the body. “If you can get through this, for me, believe me when I say it will be worth it.” He took John's face in his hands and brought his lips to his. A brief kiss that left John wanting more. He cupped John's face in his hands and whispered "Trust me" with a glitter in his eye before stepping to the side, allowing John to continue down to the scene.

The initial few moments of essentially remembering how to walk passed by easily enough. John tried his best to keep his focus on the body in front of him. Even the thought of what would happen when Sherlock finally decided to use the remote, better yet what would follow when they got home, only spurred his cock on further. He was trying to remain calm. His growing erection wasn’t helping much.

“John?”

John looked up to see the Detective Inspector looking at him expectantly.

“Right, sorry. Cause of death; blunt instrument to the back of the head -” He tried to analyse what he could without bending down.. or moving much at all. It was as if he had his cane again only terrifically more appealing. “- seems to have died in the last six hours”

“John, would you come closer? There's a distinct odour in the follicles of her hair and I can't quite place my finger on it.”

 _Sure there is, Sherlock_  
John sighed and tried to catch the attention of the detective. Sherlock ignored him entirely and continued with his analysis of the cadaver.

“I.. uh.. I can’t smell anything, Sherlock.” Sherlock's attention never broke from the woman in front of them.   
“Not from up there you can’t. Come down here.” John sighed and steadily made his way onto his knees. He leant forward slightly to try and detect exactly what Sherlock was on about when it hit him.

A slow trembling started at the base of the anchor and pushed its way through inside of John. He could feel the unrelenting pressure against his muscles and John couldn’t stop the quiet moan as it passed his lips and immediately wished he could have taken it back.  
“Everything ok, John?” He hadn’t even seen Sherlock slip his hand into his pocket.   
“Fine” John cleared his throat. “I’m fine. What is it you wanted me to identity?”  
  
“It’s very faint, You’ll need to get closer to smell it.”

John leant forward on his knees, desperate to get this over with and back to his feet. Just as the hope crossed his mind, the vibrations grew stronger. Sherlock had changed it to a slow, pulsating throb that grew stronger before fading away, then returning all over again. John closed his eyes and lowered his head, allowing himself a brief moment before remembering where he was.

He threw his eyes open in horror, expecting to see Greg staring at him in disgust but was met with Sherlock's eyes. Those blue and magnificent eyes. He whispered softly.  
"Are you alright?"  
"Do I bloody look alright?"

Sherlock's eyes curled up as his smile radiated across his face. Greg gave an exasperated sigh and dropped his hands to his side that had previously been engulfed in his booklet writing notes.  
“Something funny boys? There is a body in front of you if you want to _try_  and show some respect?” He glanced over to John and raised an eyebrow. “You alright mate? You’re not looking so good.”

John spoke through gritted teeth.  
“Fine.”

In truth, he was anything but. If they finished at the scene, Lestrade would have no need of them. They could leave and John could return to the safety of the flat and make Sherlock pay for what he had done to him. Something with his fatigues perhaps. Sherlock went weak when John wore his military fatigues..

John took deep breaths, trying to still the fire inside him from erupting. His cock was twitching desperately against the front of his trousers in a growing constriction and he could feel the precome against his belly and his pants. He needed to get out of here. He hoped to God that Sherlock had already solved this.  
"Blunt instrument. Died about six hours ago. Killed somewhere else and dumped here. There's residue under her -" John's voice faltered as the plug began to speed up. Jumping to a quick, steady pulse somewhat stronger than the last. John took a breath "-under her fingernails. Likely blood or skin tissue.” He shifted his eyes to Sherlock's and they met in a furious dance of lust. Sherlock could clearly see what he was doing to his poor doctor. He could observe every twitch, every breath, every jump in his voice. Sherlock was loving this and John could see it in his eyes. He was struggling too.

Lestrade barely even noticed. He just stood taking notes in his diary and occasionally asked for more detail.

John swallowed thickly and attempted desperately to slow his breathing. His pulse was erratic and he was certain the blush he could feel on his chest had spread to his cheeks. The rapid, even pulses of the toy urged his cock to match the deep throbbing and John let out a silent whimper as he felt his rim tightening and relaxing against the intruder. _I could come from this._

John tensed his fist at his side and felt a bead of sweat trickle down from his temple. He clenched his eyes closed in a feeble attempt to clear his vision which had slightly begun to blur. He needed to leave. He needed to be far away and he needed Sherlock inside him. He needed to be inside Sherlock. It didn't even matter, he didn't care, he just desperately needed to come.

He opened his eyes, not to arouse suspicion but he didn't dare to look back to Sherlock, not once he flicked the setting back to the slow but heavy pulses that rose and fell with his breath. John could feel Sherlock's eyes burning on his skin. He knew he was watching and probably checking his bloody heart rate from here. He was certain he was growing close. The deep pulses lighting him on fire from within, the straining of his flesh on the fabric in front of it, Sherlock's eyes fixed on his throat. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, before his slow, god his very slow head caught up with him. God, he would seem so thick for not realising.

John cleared his throat.  
"Lestrade..."

Greg kept his focus on his notebook, pausing only to look back to what Sherlock was doing and back again to make note.

John felt a rage pool in the base of his stomach. The slow waves of vibrations rising and washing over him had, understandably, shortening his temper. John near shouted.  
" _Greg_!"  
Both Greg and Sherlock snapped to face John who was clearly struggling with breathing as much as anything else. John had a twisted smile on his face that neither detective seemed pleased with.  
"Why are we here?"

Greg raised an eyebrow in confusion and looked back to Sherlock, then the corpse before returning to John.   
"Isn't it obvious enough?"   
"No." John tensed both hands and laughed through the whimper caused by Sherlock's flicking through settings till a hard even pulse erupted through his core and his hips inadvertently twitched and ached to thrust forward. "No it's not! _It's not_!" John took in a deep breath. He'd need to get it out before his body betrayed him again. "She has skin and blood residue under her fingernails! You don't need us!"

Lestrade hesitated and looked back to Sherlock who .. had never been so quiet in his life. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

"No we do need you. We need you to um...tell us where she died!"

John finally faced Sherlock whose smoldering eyes pierced through him and there it was.

"Lestrade, we are not Scotland Yard. I know someone thinks you're all useless but actual DNA and and the muck she's covered in is more than enough to give you where she was killed and probably her actual killer."

John felt Sherlock lower the setting, lower and lower till there was nothing and he sighed. Mostly from relief but also because he had a moment to catch his breath. He could still feel the ravenous ache and throbbing in his cock and summoned all of his willpower not to touch it, even to adjust himself. He couldn't.

Lestrade, obviously defeated dropped his arms and his notebook to his side and turned to Sherlock.   
"Sorry mate, I've got nothing"  
Sherlock stood again and straightened his coat before pulling his scarf around his neck and tying it.

"Thank you for your time, Graham - ", The DI rolled his eyes, " - I've proved my point so we will be on our way. Come along, John"

John stood motionless. What on earth had just occurred. Did Sherlock set this up? He remained, feet planted on the ground beneath him and slowly came down from the almost orgasm. His cock still sensitive and his muscles still flexing around the, now, warm silicone deep inside of him.   
"What the hell?" He asked it innocently enough so he may even get a straight answer from the stupid git. When he had ignored him entirely and kept walking to the car he couldn't take it anymore  
"Sherlock! What the _actual_ hell?!"

Sherlock turned to face him only for a moment, but long enough to flash a quick but devilish smirk before continuing to the car. In that brief moment he had turned the setting to the hard, strong and even pulses and his cock and balls became a hard weight in his pants, begging to be sated.

He dropped to his knees which only made it worse. His newfound position had tilted the silicone to rub against his prostate and send jolt after jolt through the sensitive nerve endings causing John to recoil and arch his back.

He heard Lestrade run towards him and Sherlock soon after. His vision was coming undone at the corners of his peripheral and his hearing slightly muffled. He can't come. He can't.  
"Bloody hell Sherlock, You said you'd drug him enough to test his observations, not send him into a fit! Call 999!"  
"No that's quite alright, I know what he's had and he's fine. Just needs to be taken straight to bed! I'll see to it. Thank you for your assistance."

Sherlock turned the vibrations back down to slow, agonising waves. John wasn't sure what was easier to handle, the slow, dull waves that kept him on edge or the hard, fast and even pulse that threatened to send him over. Sherlock brought John back to his feet and guided him inside the taxi that was waiting for them.

John lay his head against the back of the seat as he felt his cock twitch and precome leak through the front of the fabric. His body weak with slight convulsions as the toy shifted inside him after every breath. He moaned heavily as Sherlock refused to give him any respite. and sat purposefully out of arm's reach, clearly observing and taking notes. Luckily the taxi had a dividing partition.

The drive felt like it took forever but finally they arrived home. Sherlock exited the cab and ran to John's side, opening the door for him and helping him out.  
"Bit early in the day for a couple of drinks, hey mate?"  
Sherlock gave him a dangerous glare and threw the fare at him, leaving it to fly through the window and all over the driver and passenger seat.

Sherlock hurried John through the door and up the stairs, leaving him to lean unceremoniously on the wall while Sherlock opened the door to their flat. He pushed through and turned to guide John inside, eagerly awaiting the reward he was to give him for not only withstanding such a torture, but for seeing clearly enough to call Sherlock out on his bluff.

"Are you alright? Do you want me to give you a minute before - " John took the moment Sherlock had let his guard down to pull the remote from his pocket before pushing him away with such a force that Sherlock fell arse-first onto the floor beneath him. The slow pulses caused John's balls to ache with desire and a need to feel release. But he wasn't so quick to forgive Sherlock for the almost humiliation he could have received from Lestrade. He shut of the vibrations with a sigh. The heavy ache wasn't gone but it was quelled.. for a time.

"How could you do that to me." He started to calm but the events of the morning had left him somewhat on edge. " _Fake_ a crime scene to torture me in public"  
"Not entirely, the body was real -"  
"Shut up. I mean it shut up. I nearly came! I would have come if you didn't turn this bloody thing down when you did" He held the offending remote in the air, in awe of the power it had had over him in the last hour.   
Sherlock cautiously rose to his feet in at attempt to calm his angered detective. He came in close to John and purred deeply into his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine.  
"It was just for research. I know your climax, John. I know exactly where to press and how hard to stroke you before you unravel before me."

John felt Sherlock bring his hand from his side, no doubt heading for what he had been begging for since before they left the flat. And pushed him back again. Sherlock caught himself on the edge of his armchair and looked at John with such an intensity that John was sure he was about to yell at him in return. But he didn't. He spoke softly and attempted again to close the gap between John and himself. John placed the remote down on the table beside him and tried anxiously to control his breathing.  
"Come on, aren't you ready to come, Captain?"

John snapped. His left fist curled up and cracked against Sherlock's jaw, sending him spinning and crashing into the arm of his chair. John followed up quickly. He was closed in behind the detective and ripped his prized coat from his shoulders, sending it flying across the room to land on, John thought, the coffee table. He grabbed Sherlock's wrists and held them behind him with one hand, ripping his belt out of the loops with his other. He curled the fine, firm leather of Sherlock's, undoubtedly expensive, belt around his forearms and wrists, securing them firmly in place.

Sherlock, having recovered from the punch, turned his head to a side and moved his jaw in an attempt to relax the muscles in his cheeks that were sure to bruise. As he gathered his senses, he felt the tight pinch of leather on his skin. He felt the fabric of his trousers and pants brush past the hairs on his thighs and calves as it dropped to the floor around his ankles.  
"John, what are you - "  
"I said - " John grabbed Sherlock's arousal and pumped one tight and agonisingly slow motion " - Shut up. It's my turn now, Sherlock. Do you know what you did to me. What you put me through?"   
He brought down an open palm to the alabaster flesh of his arse, immediately radiating a glowing red handprint and Sherlock gasped in a breath. John squeezed Sherlock in his palm, slowly dragging it from base to tip, gathering the leaking precome beginning to steadily leak from the head and bringing it back down to slick his shaft. Sherlock growled and bucked against John, who was standing directly behind him to prevent him from moving.  
He leant forward and spoke in harsh, quick words.   
"How do you like me giving the orders for once, _detective_." He brought his right hand around and forced two fingers inside Sherlock's mouth who sucked them wantonly and hungrily, running his tongue over the tips and down to the knuckle. "Hear _this_. You had better come before I do or you won't at all."  
He ripped his fingers from Sherlock's mouth and wormed one slowly inside his entrance. Sherlock dropped his head and moaned gently into the Union Jack pillow beneath him. He barely had time to register the feel of John's finger inside of him before he thrust a second one through his clenched muscles and fought to relax. John kept at a slow rhythm, pumping the precome from his detectives cock and running it across his palm and back down his shaft again. John scissored his fingers inside the warmth of the beauty in front of him, watching as he tensed his bound hands into fists and, what looked like, an actual attempt to break free.

John withdrew his fingers and kept one hand on Sherlock's back, holding him in place while he moved around to the front of the chair, the silicone still applying a firm pressure inside of him. He undid his belt, dropped his clothing to the floor before stepping over it and kicking the useless material to the side, making Sherlock watch.

Sherlock had his mouth gaped open stupidly, as if he were to start on a string of insults and smartass remarks. John smiled and guided that clever mouth around his cock, moaning as the vibrations of Sherlock's voice matched the vibrations he had suffered through all morning. John curled his fingers through his dark hair and thrust up into the mouth that had been so silent, into the mouth that had taunted him and teased him. Sherlock's breath hitched through his nose as he tried to take in the entirely of his detective, only for it to falter and gasp through his mouth as John pulled back. John brought a second hand to his dark and delicate curls, slowly guiding Sherlock's mouth as far down as he could manage at such an angle. He felt Sherlock's throat convulse once, twice before retracting and allowing the man to take in deep hoarse breaths.

John moved in close to whisper deeply in his ear.  
"Do you trust _me_?"

He moved swiftly back behind his detective, grabbing a small bottle of lube from behind a cushion on his way. With his fingers shaking, from anger or utter arousal he wasn't sure anymore, he clumsily squeezed some of the slick from the bottle and onto his throbbing cock. He tossed the bottle aside, smearing the cool liquid over himself before aligning with Sherlock’s entrance and slowly pushing through. Sherlock growled and flexed his bound hands together, desperate for something to grab onto. He bit down into the pillow and squeezed the fabric between his teeth.

John let out a long, heavy moan as he gave in to the carnal desire of his cock. It felt as if he had been straining for hours, battling with the vibrations to keep from coming. That was all he was interested in now. He needed to come. Hard. He let out a small, sinister laugh as he reached behind him for Sherlock's prized remote and set it to the crashing waves. He whimpered as the familiar pulses washed over him, pushed past his bundle of nerves through to his core and reached out to the tightness contracting around his cock. He wasn't going to last long at all. It was only by some miracle that he hadn't come at the 'crime scene'.

"John, please.. I...." Sherlock groaned again, feeling John fill him completely before beginning an agonisingly slow series of short thrusts that weren't quite deep enough to scratch Sherlock's itch. He pressed back, urging John to give in and give him what he needed. Why would he do that? Sherlock felt his cock bobbing uselessly and prodding against the arm of the chair, wishing desperately for more friction.

"Shut up Sherlock" John spat through gritted teeth. He pressed the second setting on the remote and a strong pulse of regular tremors pulsed through him and threatened to carry him over.

"Please... Please.. John -" John reached forward and grabbed the base of Sherlock's scarf, still dangling delicately in front of him. He curled the hanging fabric around his fist, bringing the knot around to the base of his neck and pulled back. The makeshift leash brought Sherlock's back into an arch as he clung desperately at each breath. Almost flush against him, John reached around to the detectives cock and began furiously pumping and thrusting into the cause of his anger and his need.

John pulled on the leash harder, hearing the breath escape Sherlock's lungs and convulsed, jolting each thrust through his orgasm. Sherlock's chest began to burn and his vision turned dark as his brain struggled to nourish itself with much needed oxygen. The sensation combined with residual vibration through John's arse to his cock, and John's warm come filling him from within brought Sherlock instantly over the edge, spurting helplessly into the side of his armchair.

John ripped the scarf from Sherlock's neck, collapsing over him and listened as he gasped, drawing in desperate lungfuls of air. Sherlock's vision came pouring into focus as the room around him melted back into place. The aftershock of his orgasm rippled throughout his entire being, stretching from his toes, to his fingertips and pooling at the back of his eyes. His chest began to relax and his heart began to slow. The organ relaxing back into routine after trying desperately to keep Sherlock conscious through the throw of his release.

John reached behind him and delicately removed the silicone toy. He let out a small whimper as his weak thighs and flaccid cock twitched at the sudden feeling of once again, becoming empty and strangely he missed it. The damn thing was to be the death of him today and yet his body missed it. A reasonable mindset would have thrown the blasted thing in fire but the endorphins dancing through John's brain had ultimately savoured where the events of the day had led him and resorted to gently positioning it on the side table to be dealt with later.

As Sherlock rode the final waves of his climax, John gently unfastened the belt from his forearms and let it drop to the floor. He didn't know where all this had come from. He had never been so rough with his detective. Sure, he had been on the receiving end more often than not when it came to this sort of thing but something inside of him snapped and he was overcome with the need to take what was his. Something to look further into in future perhaps..

 

 


End file.
